


Don't Hide

by SpookyMiscreant



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Blood, Courting Rituals, Dearg-Due, Established Relationship, I did so much research, M/M, Sharing Clothes, Spark Stiles Stilinski, not graphic gorey mentions of blood but it's there so be aware, scira - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-07-07 02:04:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15898692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpookyMiscreant/pseuds/SpookyMiscreant
Summary: Something is killing young men in Beacon Hills.Stiles and Isaac just want a moment of peace so that they can tell their friends that they are together.Five times they secretly courted each other + one time their feelings were so obvious they didn't have to hide it.





	Don't Hide

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ShebaRen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShebaRen/gifts).



> Hi!  
> This is full of Irish, Polish, and Celtic traditions and mythology. I will put a legend at the end for any confusion!  
> I hope you like it!

At the beginning of senior year, Stiles and Isaac agreed that keeping their feelings for each other from the pack was a good idea considering the life and death circumstances that had befallen them. Now, their senior year was coming to a close, yet the boys still hadn’t found the right moment to actually tell their friends what was between them. Beacon Hills had cock blocked them every time they tried to share their happiness with the people they loved. 

Hopefully the pack would just eventually catch on and take the pressure off of an increasingly stressful event. 

-

“Dad and Parrish are on the scene right now,” Stiles said as he entered the loft, still sweaty from his knife throwing session with Chris Argent.

Lydia had screamed and the pack had come running. 

Unfortunately not fast enough this time, because shortly after they’d split up to search Stiles’ father was calling him. 

“What does he think happened?” Derek asked, crossing his arms and furrowing his eyebrows as always. 

“He said officially it was a hiking accident,” Stiles paused to grab one of the blueberry bagels from the counter, “When I asked what he thought unofficially he said that the wounds were too clean to be made from anything natural.” Stiles handed Isaac the bagel and plopped down beside him with a weary sigh. 

“What does that mean?” Scott asked with a frown. 

“That means that apparently the body was drained of its blood via gashes which the coroner will say were jagged from a fall, not clean from a knife or a very sharp claw.” Stiles explained. 

Isaac leaned over and whispered, “That kind of rhymed.” 

Despite the grave situation Stiles found himself laughing with delight. 

Later that night after the pack had unsuccessfully tried to figure out what the creature was, Stiles pulled Isaac aside and looked at his boyfriend sheepishly. 

“What’s got you looking like you spilled coffee on your dad’s paperwork again?” 

“Oh ha-ha. That only happened once you little shit.” Stiles snarked back. 

Isaac smirked as he watched the embarrassed flush disappear from Stiles’ face, only to be replaced by the usual heat and sarcasm that Isaac had fallen for. 

“I got you something.” 

“Oh?”

“Yes, dick. I like to get you things.” Stiles grumbled as he lightly punched Isaac. 

“I’m sure if it could my desk would cry every time you saw something I would like.” The werewolf smiled despite his teasing tone. 

“This is different. More important. We’ve uh been together for about four months and I wanted something to show how much you mean to me.” Stiles started digging through his numerous pockets as Isaac watched fondly. 

“I spent a long time researching and I think I finally found something that shows how serious I am when I say you’re the best thing that could’ve happened to me.” Stiles handed Isaac a small velvet box.

Isaac opened the box to discover a pretty silver ring. The ring wasn’t a simple band like one would expect, this one depicted two hands holding a crowned heart. 

“This is the ring Angel gave Buffy right? That’s awesome.” Isaac genuinely liked the gift, especially because it reminded him of last summer when Isaac had made Stiles finally watch every episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer inbetween the human’s training sessions with Chris, but he was confused as to why the ring had carried so much meaning to Stiles since Angel and Buffy weren’t even endgame. 

“What? No!” Flailing hands and demonstrative  facial expressions were very dramatic as Stiles stared open mouthed at Isaac, “Well technically yes, but this one’s silver! Buffy’s was gold.” 

“Well yeah, but you know I can’t wear gold. Silver is definitely the better metal. Thank you Stiles.” Isaac smiled, sliding the ring onto his right ring finger. 

“I’m happy you like it and all that, but I didn’t get it because it’s a symbol of your favorite ship in one of your favorite shows. I got it because it’s Irish tradition!” Stiles was getting embarrassed and flustered, which only made Isaac smirk at his boyfriend. 

“Okay? What do the Irish have to do with your feelings about me?” Isaac asked, genuinely confused. 

Stiles groaned loudly, drawing the attention of Lydia and Allison, and walked out of the loft with his shoulders slumped in defeat. 

Isaac shrugged at the girls’ questioning looks and pulled out his phone to look up the ring’s meaning. 

_ Stiles. _

_ I liked the ring. _

_ I didn’t know its meaning.  _

_ It’s very sweet.  _

_ I love you too. _

Isaac tried to act normal during the late dinner Derek had made for him and Peter, but he kept glancing at his phone, desperate to prove to Stiles how much he had enjoyed his gift. 

_ I’m glad you liked it. _

_ I just assumed you would already know what it meant. I should’ve known not everyone is in touch with their history like mom was.  _

Isaac breathed a deep relieved breath at Stiles’ response, but was still confused. 

_ Wait.  _

_ What do you mean history?  _

Isaac laughed a sharp startling sound at the quiet dinner table when Stiles replied, reminding Isaac that his boyfriend was smarter than him by a mile. 

_ Isaac.  _

_ Honey, Darling, Sweet child. _

_ You are Irish.  _

_ I gave you an Irish ring for love, loyalty, and friendship. _

_ Because you are Irish.  _

-

“What's the body total at now?’

“Shut up Isaac we're trying to save people!” 

“No we aren't. We are actively not trying to save people. We are trying to save a creature that is murdering people! On purpose!” Stiles snapped from his place next to a very irritated Peter.

“We can't just kill her. Dearg-Due’s are tortured spirits! But you're right we should try harder to protect the innocents.” Scott declared offering zero solutions but said with lot of gusto and optimism.

Stiles wanted to be irritated with his friend’s usual useless behavior, but found himself sharing a fond eye roll with Isaac instead. Their alpha would always be the sweet boy that’d taken them both under his wing, and both boys prefered it that way. 

“Yeah man. We’ll figure this out.” Stiles sighed with a small, weary smile. 

The Dearg-Due was a Celtic creature. She was the spirit of a wronged woman, though the original tale was that the woman’s husband bled her out each day until finally she couldn’t take it anymore and killed herself. The reality of the legend was that occasionally, if the heritage was right, a woman who felt abandoned and victimized to the point of taking her own life would return and bleed out young men who wandered into the cemeteries. It was a bloody and violet myth that had come to life in Beacon Hills, but Stiles still found himself grieving for the Dearg-Due’s life. How could someone be so tortured and feel so abandoned by men that they turned into this creature?

Isaac placed a comforting hand on his thigh, already knowing that Stiles was preparing himself for a night full of research. 

“Well that’s enough for tonight. We’ll meet again after class tomorrow. Good job out there guys.” Scott announced with the air of a teacher. 

“You just want to catch the eleven thirty movie with Kira.” Lydia accused with a smirk.

Scott started to flush and sputter, which only proved his guilt. 

“Like you're any better Lyds. I know for a fact that you've been texting that guy from Columbia all night.” Stiles reminded her with a shit eating grin. 

“I don't much care for you children, so I'll be leaving. Text me if another body turns up.” Peter snarked from his spot on the stairs. 

“Oh whatever I'm sure you have plans too.” Isaac grumbled. 

“Correction. Only text me if it's the ramen noodle haired brat’s body.” With that, Peter took his leave. 

Isaac elbowed Stiles for laughing, but who could blame him? Peter was funny sometimes. 

Stiles was still laughing when Isaac came back from the kitchen with a bucket of water. 

“What-” Stiles couldn't even finish his question before he was suddenly choking on cold water. 

“Isaac!” Scott was suddenly between the boys as if protecting Stiles. 

“He started it?” was Isaac’s best attempt at explaining. 

“I started it?” Stiles’ question came out in a startled yelp. 

He was cold and drenched and so so confused. 

“You’re the one who brought up old traditions!” Isaac exclaimed. 

“Oh fuck me are you serious right now? That’s what this is?” Stiles sighed. 

“What the hell is happening right now?” Derek’s angry voice made both boys realize they were surrounded by their friends. 

“It’s nothing. I was being an idiot.” Isaac mumbled, embarrassed and regretting his actions. 

“No you weren’t. It’s fine, Isaac.” Stiles stood up and put a soft hand on Isaac’s shoulder, “Let’s go find some dry clothes for me to wear, so Mr.Argent doesn’t kill me for getting his training floor wet.” 

Isaac’s usually cold blue eyes warmed for a moment as he smiled a shy, sweet smile at his boyfriend. 

Stiles loved that smile so much he found himself grinning cheekily back even though his jeans were definitely starting to chafe his thighs. 

“You only picked clothes you knew would be too big on me didn’t you?” Stiles accused, trying and failing at being irritated by that. 

Isaac smirked in response. 

“Do you remember that day I wore the blue scarf I’d gotten in Paris and you made fun of me for three weeks?” Isaac had a gleam in his eye that spelled trouble for Stiles. 

Suddenly Isaac was right in front of him grinning devilishly as he wrapped the blue scarf snugly around Stiles’ throat. Stiles was immediately drowned in a tide of hormones at their proximity, the mischief in Isaac’s eyes, and the way Isaac’s large artistic hands smoothed the ends down Stiles’ chest. 

Stiles cleared his throat and stepped back, remembering that they were in an apartment full of friends with supernaturally enhanced senses. He looked down at the clothes he was about to walk out in and smiled because he looked ridiculous in Isaac’s clothes, but was still grateful to have a boyfriend that cared enough to dump water on him in front of the people they loved.

Stiles only wished his mother had been able to see it. She would have been delighted to see Stiles’ boyfriend upholding long standing Polish courting rituals. 

-

“Have you slept?” 

“What kind of question is that, babe?” Stiles sighed, dragging a weary hand down his face, “I’m still trying to find a way to help the Dearg-Due find peace, but it’s hard.” 

Isaac nodded as he moved to sit behind Stiles on the human’s bed, his legs on either side of Stiles’. He gently maneuvered his boyfriend so that his back was against Isaac’s chest before slowly closing the laptop and rubbing slow circles up and down Stiles’ arms.

“Rest for an hour or so and then we’ll double down on research.” 

“Hmmm. That sounds good. You’re so smart. And pretty.” Stiles sighed out contently as he leaned more heavily onto Isaac, letting his body relax finally, “Mmm, and snuggly too.” 

Isaac just smiled down at his boyfriend and started quietly humming the tune his mother used to sing to him before bed. 

He’d been thinking about the mishap with dumping water on Stiles and how he should go about is next romantic courting gift, and was growing frustrated because much of Polish courting rituals took place in a very public manner and some even depended on loved ones being present, like the water stunt. 

He’d settled on his next gift days ago, but how no idea how he’d complete it without explaining to the pack why they were supposed to dance with ribbons. Isaac was grateful that they both instinctively knew Stiles was going to be the one to tell the pack that they were dating because now, confronted with the task of speaking to the pack en masse about something he was nervous about Isaac knew he’d never have the courage to tell them. 

They laid in Stiles’ bed for three hours before Isaac gently started trying to wake the human, who had been slobbering all over him. 

“Mmm. How long?” 

“A couple of hours.” 

“Those are hours of research I’ll never get back.” Stiles groaned into Isaac’s chest. 

Isaac ran a soothing and through Stiles’ hair, “I have a surprise for you.” 

Stiles was instantly awake and grinning like a fool, “Show me! Show me! Show me!”

Isaac found himself grinning in response to Stiles’ joy, “Then go look out your window, sunshine.” 

Stiles shot off the bed and slammed against the window in a loud crash of long limbs and excited energy. 

“Oh Isaac.” Stiles sighed contently, “What is it?” 

“It’s the beginning of a Maypole. When we finally tell everyone we can ask them to do the dancing ribbon thing to have it wrapped properly.” Isaac explained as he wrapped his arms around Stiles. 

He smelled the swell of salty tears before they actually dropped from Stiles’ whiskey eyes. 

“It’s a beautiful tree trunk.” Stiles sobbed. 

“Yeah sorry about that. I don’t know how to properly cut and sand the tree to make an actual pole.” Isaac chuckled. 

-

The Dearg-Due killed three more men before the pack finally found a way to safely bring her spirit to the other side. Safe was a relative term since the plan included using Isaac as bait, and hinged on the wolves being able to hold her down long enough for Stiles to bleed over her while chanting an incantation. Stiles had volunteered to be bait, but he was the only one who could properly pronounce the celtic language needed to bring her peace.

The plan was finished, but they still had to wait two more days for the new moon to properly do the incantation. Two more days of waiting by the police scanner for anything that could be the Dearg-Due. Two more days of bickering over the details of their plan. Two more days of crippling guilt and ever building pressure. 

“Stiles, if you hum The Imperial March when I enter the room one more time I will break every bone in your hand.” Peter sneered. 

“I’d like to see you try, you rotting ass corpse.” Stiles snapped, bearing his teeth in a wolf like manner. 

“Calm down.” Derek deadpanned from his seat at the dining table, not even deigning to give them one of his patented glares. 

“Wow you are such an inspiring role model.” Lydia’s eye roll was strong enough to kill a man. 

“Do you only ever offer unhelpful sarcasm?” Malia asked as if she was both incredibly annoyed and actually curious.

Kira, ever the peacekeeper finally took her headphones off and addressed the entire room, “I know we’re all frustrated guys, but we need to pull together. Pack is supposed to be family. We aren’t supposed to fight!” 

“Spoken like an only child.” Cora’s apathy was clear in her voice. 

“Don’t bring Kira into our spats, she doesn’t deserve that.” Isaac grumbled as he moved from Stiles’ side to Kira’s. 

“I thought Kira was Scott’s girlfriend, not Isaac’s” Malia asked, once again managing to sound both genuinely curious and absolutely annoyed by the situation. 

Stiles choked on his spit and began hacking instantly, while Kira had turned beet red, and Isaac silently glared. 

“Woah it’s heavy in here. Did Stiles trip Peter again?” Scott asked, finally entering his house and joining the pack meeting. 

“He knows what will happen to his foot if he tries it again.” 

“I’d like to see you try.” Stiles enjoyed fighting with Peter, and felt it was an easy way to keep the older man included; although sometimes he really did want to hit the werewolf. 

Scott laughed happily and shook his head at his pack members. 

“Isaac, can I look at your literature homework again?” their alpha asked, trying to ease the tension. 

Isaac nodded silently before moving back to sit next to Stiles. 

The room was absolutely silent until Scott came bouncing down the stairs with two notebooks. 

“Hey why is Stiles’ favorite Mets hat hanging on your coat stand?” 

For the second time that evening Stiles choked on his spit and started hacking.

-

The plan fell apart immediately. 

The Dearg-Due did not come for Isaac, which in retrospect made sense because she hadn’t attacked a single supernatural in the month or two she’d been haunting Beacon Hills. Dearg-Dues were limited to manifesting only in graveyards, but she had never shown herself to the pack before, which made sense if she had been avoiding the supernatural. 

Stiles cursed the February chill and stomped out to his boyfriend. 

The moment Stiles stepped foot past the cemetary gate a thick fog rolled in and the sound of a woman moaning floated in on the cold breeze. 

“Isaac?” he had meant to shout but the name slipped from his lips in a quiet whisper. 

“Stiles!” Isaac’s voice was distant and sounded as if it was coming through a wall of some kind. 

The fog was so think Stiles couldn’t see anything. He wasn’t sure when it had surpassed his knees, much less his eyes, but now he was engulfed. 

“Isaac? I can’t see you.” Some primal part of Stiles’ brain was keeping him from speaking at a  normal volume, making sure he only whispered. 

He thought he heard more people calling his name, but soon they turned to seductive whispers instead of panicked shouts. 

A howl broke through his terrified thoughts. 

Or maybe that was just the sorrowful groaning that was getting louder by the second. 

Stiles crouched low and covered his head with his arms as if the earthquake safety position could protect him from the spirit lurking in the opaque fog. Each second felt like an eternity in that mist. 

“Isaac.” 

“Find me.” 

“Please baby.” 

“I’m so scared.” 

Each breath brought a new wave of fear. Stiles had never felt so scared in his life. The fog was wrapping tighter and tighter around him. He was so alone in the fog. Completely alone. 

“STILES! YOU’RE STRONGER THAN HER!” Stiles had never heard his boyfriend yell or even raise his voice, and yet that was Isaac’s voice booming through the wall of mist and terror. 

He was right. Stiles was stronger than this, stronger than her. He was a mother fucking Spark. 

Stiles stood to his full height and let loose a roar worthy of any werewolf and a wall of mountain ash surrounded him, constantly spinning like his own personal tornado. He moved through the fog in the direction he’d heard Isaac’s voice, his mountain ash dispelling the mist around him as he moved. 

Finally he broke free and could see Isaac and the pack waiting at the edge of the cemetery. Somehow everything went even further to shit between one step and the next. 

Isaac moved into the cemetery with the intent of whisking Stiles out faster than the human could walk. 

A loud ear splitting scream split through the night and the fog dropped to the ground. 

Stiles’ foot touched the ground. 

Isaac was being restrained by a beautiful ghoul in the form of a crying woman. Her hair was dark as the night around them, her skin as pale as the snow on the ground, but her long sharp nails were red. The red of fresh blood. 

Stiles watched helpless, too slow to move at their speed, as the Dearg-Due dragged those long knife like nails down Isaac’s forearms, spilling his life’s blood like the original Dearg-Due’s was. 

Stiles screamed.

Mountain Ash flew toward the spirit and formed handcuffs around her wrists. Her wrists snapped together as she howled in pain. Stiles wasn’t closed to finished, his blood was thrumming through his veins with a ferocity that only came from pure unadulterated homicidal rage. Stiles didn’t even have to consciously think about it as he pulled three of his special throwing knives out of the holster he had secured to his hip at all times. Two instantly found themselves in the howling spirit’s heart, and forehead, right between her eyes. Stiles gripped the third tightly as he approached. 

He heard Scott yelling something about save her, but why would Stiles save something that had killed his mate? He wouldn’t. 

“ **Deireadh** ” 

The gaelic fell from his lips effortlessly as he split the Dearg-Due’s throat from ear to ear. 

Her form melted into the ground, her howls and screams of pain still echoed in the night. 

Stiles bent down and retrieved his knives from the scorched earth before turning unseeing eyes on Isaac’s limp body. 

Stiles dropped to the ground beside his mate’s body, instantly covering Isaac’s body in mountain ash, willing it not to harm but to help. 

“ **Wróć do mnie** ” 

Stiles had known Polish for most of his life, but something in his voice as he pleaded for Isaac to come back was stronger,  more powerful than he had intended. 

Isaac’s wounds started healing. 

Isaac groaned before blinking his eyes open. 

“Your eyes are black.” The words came out broken and hoarse, but Stiles heard him anyways. 

“Nie obchodzi mnie to. Tylko dbam o to, żebyś oddychał.” Stiles replied. 

“You’re not speaking English and your hands are glowing. You have to let go of it. Stiles breathe. Come back to me.” Isaac pleaded, not moving from his place resting on Stiles’ legs. 

Stiles took a deep breath and felt the receding tide of something old and powerful from within himself. 

“What happened?” Isaac asked, relaxing for the first time since opening his eyes. 

“I don’t know.” Stiles admitted. 

“Malia you are not going to believe this shit.” Cora’s voice popped the private bubbled the boys had been in. 

“That was totally awesome!!” Kira cheered. 

Scott leaned over and whispered to Kira, “I may be wrong but I think Stiles has a crush on Isaac.” 

Stiles felt the tension run out of his body as he threw his head back and laughed. 

He couldn’t wait to decorate his maypole with these idiots. 

**Author's Note:**

> Translations:  
> Deireadh: Gaelic for End.  
> Wróć do mnie: Polish for Come back to me.  
> Nie obchodzi mnie to. Tylko dbam o to, żebyś oddychał: Polish for I do not care. I only care that you breathe."  
> The story of the Dearg-Due comes from the story of a young woman who was in love with a sweet young boy in the village she lived in. One day an old rich man came and asked for her hand in marriage. Her father consented and she was whisked away to a castle where she was violently abused by her new husband every day. He would come to her room at night and bleed her as she wished for the young village boy to save her. Eventually she gave up hope and ended her life. Soon she rose from the grave with black hair, black eyes, and started luring men to cemeteries and bleeding them until they too died.  
> Old Polish courting rituals are very gendered and actually really sexist. So I picked two that weren't too bad.  
> Young men used to pinch and dump water on women in the town square as a sign of their affection.  
> Young men used to erected Maypoles in the yards of girls they fancied.  
> Irish courting rituals were actually kind of cute and secretive!  
> I'm sure you all know about the Claddagh ring.  
> But did you know that Irish men would toss their hats inside the house of the person they took a shining to? Isn't that so cute!  
> I hope you liked it!!


End file.
